Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery) (15 page)

They all descended from the trolley.

“This was a good idea,” Liv said. “I can get an idea of how it comes together.”

“And if you can make it more efficient and bring more people in, and keep things moving, and—”

“Stop, stop. I’m not always working.”

BeBe raised her eyebrows.

“Am I?”

Her eyebrows disappeared into the blue yarn of her hat.

They walked beneath a swag of pine and twinkling lights onto a wide porch surrounded by a wrought-iron rail, festooned with pine swags that were tied up with bows and decorated with red-and-silver ornaments.

It was charming. The foyer table was country antique, and held a huge glass bowl of oranges and cinnamon sticks. The smell was heavenly. A fat white pine tree sat in the corner of the living room.

That was when Liv realized she didn’t have a Christmas tree in her little house. But it wasn’t too late. She’d go buy one . . . soon. In the meantime, she’d enjoy the ones on the tour.

They spent several minutes all crowded into the living room while Maeve pointed out several family quilts, a display of vintage Christmas cards, and the row of wooden nutcrackers across the mantel of the stone fireplace. A needlepoint fire screen depicted an image of Thomas Nast’s Santa. There was a lot of Christmas stuffed into that room.

People oohed and aahed and remarked on the cute fabric dolls that sat in a wicker chair beneath the tree. And in a few minutes they were walking down the sidewalk to the next house.

The whole street was decorated; each house seemed more festive and beautiful than the last. There were Craftsman cottages, Cape Cods, a carriage house three times the size of Liv’s, all cheerful, welcoming, and joyous. And by the time they reached the next-to-the-last stop, a larger white colonial with pine-wrapped columns, Liv was totally in the Christmas spirit. Here, everything was on a grander, yet simple scale, which Maeve explained was the Federal style.

Liv and BeBe went inside on the heels of Ruth Benedict and her two friends, who had spent most of the tour commenting and gossiping instead of actually listening to the tour guide.

A decorative Yule log filled the white marble fireplace. Two topiary trees sat at opposite ends of the mantle, flanking a dark wooden mantel clock. The Christmas tree was decorated in real candles, which were unlit but haloed by white lights hidden among the branches.

Liv took a quick look into the dining room where a long rectangular table was covered by a white damask tablecloth topped with a red-and-green table runner and set with gold-rimmed china.

“I’m thinking a cup of good cheer would do nicely right now,” BeBe said after another half hour. “Miss Ida and Miss Edna’s house is next.”

“And they invited us for mulled wine. We’ll just lag behind when the tour ends.”

Liv hardly recognized her landladies’ Victorian, even though she passed it every morning and every night when she came home. But mornings she was in a hurry and walking away from the house, and by the time she got home it was always too late to stop inside.

Two weeks before, men had come to do the outside lights, and it had taken them several days. Now Liv saw why. The eaves, the porch rail, the turret, and even the attic gables were lit in white. Not with the strips of icicles that were so popular but with lights intertwined in pine boughs—real pine boughs. Liv caught wafts of scent as she walked up the steps to the porch.

There were two spruce, cedar, and holly wreaths encircled with oranges, lemons, and kumquats, on the front door. Miss Edna and Miss Ida, looking every bit the ladies of the manor, greeted them at the door before discreetly withdrawing.

Maeve gathered them into the dark wainscoted foyer to show them a festooned tree that was at least ten feet high. Stairs, swagged with pine and red ribbon, curved to the second floor.

In the parlor, another tall tree stood in the window and an antique train ran on a track beneath it. Little houses, people, and cars dotted the white felt tree skirt. There was a fur teddy bear with movable arms and legs, a porcelain doll in an elaborate ball gown. There was a little table with a child’s puzzle in progress. A Victorian feather tree on the bookshelf. A row of needlepoint stockings hung on the mantel from painted cast-iron figures of Santa and his reindeer.

“Wow,” BeBe said. “This is beautiful. Did they do all this themselves?”

Liv shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been so busy. . . .” It was a lame excuse. And she resolved not to let her job make her neglect her friends. She’d had enough of that in Manhattan.

They moved from the fireplace to the piano in the far corner where old sepia photographs were interspersed with an old wooden top, a game of jacks, and a cylinder of pickup sticks.

Christmas was for children. It seemed natural that two retired schoolteachers would have children in their minds when they decorated. But it might also be in the minds and hearts of two spinster sisters, who had lost their fiancés to war and who had never married or had the families that they had once dreamed of.

“Well, that’s what happens when people get too uppity.” Ruth Benedict’s voice crashed in on Liv’s reflections. Was Ruth talking about the Zimmerman sisters? Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Well, she managed to ruin the tree lighting, that’s for sure.”

The three women were standing by the fireplace, ostensibly looking at the stockings.

“Said she was with her husband,” the third woman snorted. “That’s a laugh.”

The three women didn’t move from the fireplace. “Do tell.”

Ruth Benedict picked up a delicate angel from the mantel and held it up to the light. “Geraldine Madison was at the Blue Boar not long ago, and she saw her with a man young enough to be her son.”

The other two tittered.

“Maybe it was her son.”

Ruth slowly shook her head and put down the angel. “No children. Too selfish. And besides, Geraldine said that by the way they were acting, they were something more than just friends. And where there’s smoke . . .”

“She was trash from the get-go. Some things never change.”

Liv became very interested in a copy of
’Twas the Night Before Christmas
placed on a round table near the window, which put her in a better position to hear the women’s conversation.

“You think there’s some hanky-panky going on there?”

“Geraldine said the way he was fawning on her, there was no mistaking what he had in mind.”

Maeve began to gather them together for departure. “The trolley’s outside.”

People began moving toward the archway, where Edna and Ida were handing out little mesh bags of Christmas potpourri.

The three women began to move slowly toward the door.

“Disgusting.”

“If you ask me, he’s just looking for a rich sugar mama.”

“Well, he’s in for a surprise,” Ruth said.

“What do you mean?”

“Ladies, the trolley is ready to leave.” Maeve motioned for them to step it up.

BeBe came back to where Liv was standing. “I told Maeve we weren’t coming.”

Liv grabbed her by the elbow, put her finger to her lips, and eased in behind the three women.

“Well, my Jonathon said that Clarence Thornsby is in financial trouble.”

“No.”

BeBe’s eyes widened at Liv.

“That’s what Jonathon said. He heard it at the Rotary last month.”

“Lord, do you think Grace knows?”

“That young stud might be in for a rude awakening.”

“Ladies, please hurry.” Maeve hustled them out the door, throwing a wave over her shoulder to Liv and BeBe and saying a hasty thank-you to the sisters.

The door closed on the women’s laughter.

“Now, what was that all about?” asked Edna.

“We thought they’d never leave,” Miss Ida said, placing the tea tray on the coffee table in front of the Queen Anne couch. The sisters always served tea in china cups and saucers edged in pink roses. Today those were replaced by a big plaid thermos and thick lead-glass mugs with pewter handles. A Spode Christmas plate was piled high with cookies and tortes and was accompanied by four smaller plates and cocktail napkins in a holly and ivy pattern.

Ida sat at her usual place, a spoon-back armchair upholstered in gold-and-white stripes.

“You’ve decorated for the holidays so beautifully,” Liv said.

“It’s like a fairy tale,” BeBe said. “Especially the tree.”

Ida passed the plate of sweets. “We just love the season, don’t we, Edna?”

“The best holiday of the year.” Edna leaned forward from her spot on the sofa and lifted the thermos. As she poured, a heady mixture of steam and spices filled the parlor.

“That smells divine,” Liv said as she took a mug from Edna.

“We always had mulled wine for Christmas,” Ida said. “Even as children we were allowed Mama’s nonalcoholic version. It made us feel so grown-up.” She looked fondly around the room.

Liv was a little surprised. The sisters didn’t really reminisce about the past too much. Maybe Christmas was a little sad for them. “What are you doing for Christmas this year?”

“We’re thinking about staying home this year,” Edna said as she finished handing the mugs around. She lifted hers in a toast. “Merry Christmas. May God bless us, every one.”

Liv smiled and raised her mug to the others. Leave it to an ex-schoolteacher to quote Dickens.

Silence fell over the little group as they took their first sips of the potent wine.

“We had Thanksgiving dinner with Dolly and Fred,” Ida said. “They invited us for Christmas, but we didn’t want Dolly to have to go to all that trouble. Between the bakery and home, she hardly ever gets out of the kitchen.” She sighed. “We used to have Christmas dinner here, but our old friends moved away or went to visit their children and grandchildren and we just stopped doing it.”

“We got lazy,” Edna interjected in her usual no-nonsense way.

“I’m staying at home for Christmas, too,” BeBe said. “I drove down to Jersey for Christmas last year. Left after I closed up the Buttercup Christmas Eve. Got in about two o’clock. Woke up to help with turkey at six, opened presents, ate, and drove back late that night. Never again. I may just sleep in this year. What about you, Liv?”

Liv laughed. “I haven’t gotten that far. I thought about going to the city. I mean Manhattan. But I may take your cue and just sleep.”

“Nonsense.” Miss Ida held out her mug. “Everyone should celebrate Christmas with friends and family.”

“True,” said Edna and poured more wine into Ida’s glass.

Ida sighed. “We’re just getting to be a couple of old humbugs.”

Edna barked a laugh. “I’m not.”

“Well, maybe we should make Christmas dinner for everyone like we used to.”

“Fine by me. I never wanted to stop.”

“It’s settled, then. Liv and BeBe, would you like to have Christmas with us?”

“That would be great,” BeBe said. “We could all bring something. Liv?”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“None at all,” Ida said, flushed with anticipation. Or maybe with mulled wine.

Liv hoped Ida didn’t regret her generosity once the wine wore off. “Why don’t you think about it later and let us know.”

“We don’t need to discuss it,” Edna said.

“No we don’t,” agreed her sister. “We’ll ask Ted. I don’t know what he usually does for holidays. And Nancy Pyne. I don’t think she has any family nearby. And Chaz Bristow, unless he’s going to LA for the holidays. I know he has friends there. And . . .”

“Well, that settles that,” Edna said and topped off the mugs with more wine. “But in the meantime, what have you learned about the murder?”

Well, that was one way to dispel her Christmas spirit, thought Liv, and pushed her mentally conjured list of food and Christmas gifts aside.

“You know about Frank Salvatini seeing the Santa in the alley. And while we were on the house tour . . .” Liv brought the sisters up to speed on the gossip they’d overheard while visiting the decorated houses.

“Interesting,” Edna said when Liv had finished. “But, if it’s true that Clarence is broke, why would he keep adding businesses instead of retrenching?”

“We were wondering the same thing,” Liv said.

“And Grace Thornsby having an affair with a young man.” Ida reached for a pecan torte. “It boggles the mind. She used to be such a pretty girl.”

“She was,” Edna and. “And she used it to her advantage, if you know what I mean.”

“She certainly did. Now she just looks like a sour old broad.” Ida tittered. The wine was certainly having an effect on her. On all of them, Liv thought, feeling a little buzz herself.

“How old is she?” Liv asked.

“Let me think. I had her in class in . . .” Edna frowned. “Sixty-three or maybe sixty-four. Ida, go get those yearbooks and let’s have a look. Might be a photo of Hank in there, too. You know they were married once.”

“I heard,” Liv said while Ida went to the other room for the yearbooks. “Not happily I take it.” She winced at her own blatant curiosity. She was becoming something of a gossip herself since moving to Celebration Bay.

Though if she were honest, it was a skill she’d learned working in Manhattan. It was just called something else. You had to keep your edge to stay on top and not become a victim. Gossip in Celebration Bay could be malicious, but mostly it just passed the time and was often the best source of entertainment as well as information. It also had been pivotal in solving one murder. It might just help solve this one.

Ida returned with a stack of books. “I brought several years. You know Hank and Grace were prom queen and king one year.”

“Did Clarence go to school here, too?”

“Oh no. Don’t know where his people are from, but she met him when she was away staying with a sick friend. I guess things hadn’t been going so well between her and Hank at that point.”

“That’s an understatement,” Edna said, reaching for the top yearbook. “With her sense of entitlement and Hank’s temper, it was bound to blow up sooner or later.”

“Hank?” asked Liv incredulously. “He seems so kind and even tempered.” Except for that day in her office, but even then he’d been in control.

“He is, most of the time,” Ida said.

“Most of the time when he’s not around Grace.”

“That girl knew how to push his buttons,” Edna said.

“She did,” Ida agreed. “Even in high school.”

“Pfft. Even in grammar school. But Hank wasn’t her only victim. She teased the boys mercilessly. Made up to one, then flitted off to another.”

“I had no idea,” Liv said.

“Me neither,” said BeBe. “I didn’t even know they’d been married.”

“Ted told me,” Liv said. “You don’t think that Hank would do anything crazy, do you?”

“Hank? Only to Grace. And I don’t think anybody could mistake that ersatz Santa for her. Now, if it had been Grace . . .”

“Edna, you hush. You’ll give Liv and BeBe the wrong impression. Don’t you worry, Liv. Hank is as mild mannered as they come. Except when it comes to Grace. And nobody but nobody could blame him for that.”

“Maybe not,” Edna said. “But you know how people talk. They might start asking questions about Hank’s involvement.”

Especially with that bloody Santa suit
, thought Liv.

“Why?” asked BeBe, putting her mug down and giving the sisters her full attention. “He didn’t do anything.”

“That we know of,” Edna said.

“Hmmph,” Ida said. “You’d best be careful what you say, or you might be guilty of starting rumors you didn’t mean.”

“That Grace could drive anybody crazy, not just Hank. And the way she flaunts all that bling. Someone should hang her from a Christmas tree.”

“It’s shameful,” Ida agreed. “And her from a family poor as dirt. Always put on airs, though. Always had to make people think they were better than they were.”

“Maybe buying her all that jewelry took its toll on Clarence’s finances. Or do you think it’s fake?” BeBe turned to Liv. “Does it look like what your rich clients in New York City wore?”

Liv laughed. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. A lot of their jewels were paste.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I never really learned to tell the difference. I guess because it didn’t matter to me.”

“I sure wouldn’t know the difference,” Edna said.

“Maybe someone came in to steal her jewels and that poor man tried to stop him and he got killed.”

“That would be a great theory. Only Grace wasn’t there,” Liv said.

“That’s what she says.”

“Hmm. That’s a good point. She could have come in after Penny left,” Liv said. “I wonder if Bill is checking out her alibi.”

Edna snorted. “Bill’s got too much to do, policing the county for fender benders and shoplifters. They’ll end up sending in the state like they did last time, and then where will we be?”

“Heaven forbid.” Ida’s hand went to her chest. It landed right on the angel appliqué of her sweater.

Liv had already thought about that possibility. She’d been hoping Bill would sew up the case before then. It was bad enough having hired security people running around.

She wondered what A.K. Pierce was doing. Did he sit at home trying to solve the murder? Or did he leave his work at his office. A quality that Liv had never mastered.

“Liv, did you think of something?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Ida. I can’t think of a thing.”

“I guess it being an accident has been ruled out,” BeBe said.

“Pretty much.”

“Maybe someone did it in self-defense,” said BeBe. “And is afraid to come forward.”

“Like who?”

“Maybe he was taking liberties with Grace and she had to fight him off.”

“I can’t imagine anyone taking liberties with Grace.”

“Or with Penny?”

“What?” asked Liv. “She kills him, runs out to sing ‘O Tannenbaum,’ and comes back to discover him dead?”

“Pfft,” Edna said. “And why would she go to the trouble of implicating Hank when he’s been very generous with her and Jason?”

BeBe frowned. “Maybe Hank and Grace were arguing and he tried to stop him. So he . . . he . . .” She turned to Liv. “How did he die?”

“Slit his throat,” said Edna. “We were there right after Liv found him.”

BeBe’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t actually find him,” Liv protested. “It was Ted.”

“And his throat was slit?”

“That’s what it looked like. I didn’t really look that closely.” Except she had. The bane of the conscientious event planner, the devil was in the details. And those details would live with her for a long time. And were totally useless except for freaking her out.

“Have another cookie, Liv?” Miss Ida asked.

“Thanks, but I think I’ve reached my limit. They were delicious.”

Liv had noticed Edna flipping through one of the dark green yearbooks. Now she handed it to Liv.

There was no mistaking Grace Thornsby, nee Gilstrap. The younger Grace had a wickedly mischievous smile even in her yearbook picture; on the older Grace it just looked sour. That jet-black hair was real enough, or at least had been at one time. Liv passed the book to BeBe.

Edna handed Liv the second book and pointed to a photo.

“That’s Hank? I can’t imagine him without that big white beard. He’s so . . . skinny.”

“Yes, but rawboned,” Ida said. “You could tell even then that he’d fill out.”

Edna laughed. “I think he’s gone a bit further than filled out.”

Ida pursed her lips. “Hefty, then.”

Liv passed the yearbook on to BeBe. There was nothing much to be learned about the present-day people from their old pictures.

BeBe handed the book back to Edna. “Do you and Miss Ida have all your old yearbooks?”

“Oh yes, dear,” Ida said. “They still send us one every year. Isn’t that thoughtful?”

“So you have one with Penny Newland in it?”

Edna and Ida exchanged looks.

Edna rose and left the room. She returned with another yearbook. “This is her junior year. She wasn’t in the yearbook her senior year.”

“She didn’t finish school,” Ida said. “She was expecting by then.”

“Oh,” Liv said.

“Too much fun at the junior prom,” Edna said.

“Edna.”

“Well, it’s true. And a shame. She was a bright girl. Planned to go on to study business. Never even got her GED.” Edna shook her head. “At least Jason Tully is planning to do right by her.”

“Such a sweet boy,” Ida said.

“Is he the father?” asked Liv.

Edna shrugged. “That’s what people say. But I’m not convinced. She has always refused to tell who it was. But I think it was because she wasn’t sure of Jason. He was a year ahead of her, and he left for the navy the day after graduation.